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Monday, September 12, 2016

#SonofaPitch #10: Crave Me

For my regular readers, these are some special posts this week as part of a pitch contest I'm providing feedback for.

For participants, welcome to my blog! I'm happy to host you and excited to see what kinds of stories you've written. Please remember that only the author of this piece and the participating judges are supposed to comment. All other comments will be deleted.

Title: Crave MeAge and Genre: NAWord Count: 100k

Query:

Mourning his mother’s death, Dante Arzola seeks refuge from the world of wealth and corruption he was born into by trying to win the affection of childhood friend, whose darkest secret could ruin them forever. First 250 Words:

Dante Arzola

If I had to pinpoint it, everything began with one drunk, redheaded cheerleader. Or, at least, she might’ve been cheerleader.

From her stance on top of Sade’s bar, I—along with the rest of the party—had a perfect view of her legs that looked far too soft as they flirted with the crowd before them. Had me abound with inappropriate thoughts. She definitely had cheerleader legs.

The heat in the room incremented. I was in mutual agreement with most of the men here. She could have been wearing jeans, the windows would still be fogged with our fervor. Things like that were bound to happen when you were in a room full of intoxicated college students whose perception of adequate clothing lay somewhere between way too small and way too tight. We’d all become libidinous and ready, men and women alike. Our bellies would heat and our pulses pick up speed with each stinging shot of Finlandia.

I sat so much farther from the others that to a bystander I’d look like a bystander. Then again I was a wallflower, blending in with the furniture.

It wasn’t that people failed to see me, it was that they ignored me. It was like this most of the time, and I’d been dulled to any insult it should have encased. There were perks to being invisible.

2 comments:

For reasons I cannot comprehend, my blog doesn't like Elsie Elmore and won't let her comment here. She's wonderful, so I can't imagine why that would be.

Here's her feedback for you:___________________________________Query:

Mourning his mother’s death, Dante Arzola seeks refuge from the world of wealth and corruption he was born into by trying to win the affection of childhood friend, whose darkest secret could ruin them forever.I like short and to the point but this may be pushing it J

Who is it about?Born into a world of wealth and corruption, XX year old Dante Arzola grew up with warped moral? Grew up with a strong work ethic? Raised llama in Peru during winters here….Tell me about Dante.Next Conflict/inciting incident? The death of his mother has…? Were the circumstances of her death questionable? Are there shady characters to blame? To suspect? Did Dante have a role?The stakes : Darkest secret - ultimate ruin… but how?

First 250 Words:

Dante Arzola

If I had to pinpoint it (define it – the beginning of the end, the cause of the my troubles… what’s it?), everything began with one drunk, redheaded cheerleader. Or, at least, she might’ve been cheerleader. (Other than the it word, great opening.)

From her stance on top of Sade’s bar, I—along with the rest of the party—had a perfect view of her legs that looked far too soft as they flirted with the crowd before them. Had me abound with inappropriate thoughts. She definitely had cheerleader legs.

The heat in the room incremented/increased/rose. I was in mutual agreement with most of the men here. She could have been wearing jeans, the windows would still be fogged with our fervor. (oh my – great phrasings)Things like that were bound to happen when you were in a room full of intoxicated college students whose perception of adequate clothing lay somewhere between way too small and way too tight. We’d all become libidinous and ready, men and women alike. Our bellies would heat and our pulses pick up speed with each stinging shot of Finlandia.

I sat so much farther from the others that to a bystander I’d look like a bystander. Then again I was a wallflower, blending in with the furniture.

(It) wasn’t that people failed to see me, (it) was that they ignored me. It – It? Life?Existence? was like this most of the time, and I’d been dulled to any insult (it) should have encased. There were perks to being invisible. (Lots of its here)

So, I’m not sure what the story is about because your query was … less than detailed. However, the voice here is great. You hit the right notes with characterizations. Other than the pesky word it, all I can say is I’m in. I want to know what started with the red headed girl at the bar.

Mourning his mother’s death, Dante Arzola seeks refuge from the world of wealth and corruption he was born into by trying to win the affection of (a) childhood friend, whose darkest secret could ruin them forever.

Short and sweet…I need more. Age of Dante. Who is he? What makes him decide to win the affection of his childhood friend (name?)…his mother’s death? Why that friend? What happened when he approached that friend? What problems arose? Did he win the affections or not? If not what stopped him…the darkest secret? But what? Why did it stop him? What would choosing this friend mean for him? If he chooses to stay with the friend, what terrible thing could happen?

First 250 Words:

Dante Arzola

If I had to pinpoint it, everything began with one drunk, redheaded cheerleader. Or, at least, she might’ve been cheerleader. (Ha! Great opener!)

From her stance on top of Sade’s bar, I—along with the rest of the party—had a perfect view of her legs that looked far too soft (too soft…is a bad thing?) as they flirted with the crowd before them. (Had me abound with inappropriate thoughts.-this phrase bothers me…) She definitely had cheerleader legs. (and he always had a thing for cheerleaders back in high school or college?)

The heat in the room incremented. I was in mutual agreement with most of the men here. She could have been wearing jeans, the windows would still be fogged with our fervor. Things like that were bound to happen when you were in a room full of intoxicated college students whose perception of adequate clothing lay somewhere between way too small and way too tight. We’d all become libidinous and ready, men and women alike. Our bellies would heat and our pulses pick up speed with each stinging shot of Finlandia.

I sat so much farther from the others that to a bystander I’d look like a bystander. Then again I was a wallflower, blending in with the furniture.

It wasn’t that people failed to see me, it was that they ignored me. (And he is okay with that?) It was like this most of the time, and I’d been dulled to any insult it (What is the "IT"?) should have encased. There were perks to being invisible. (I like that last line!)

I need more of the feeling of this guy you just wrote about in the query. Where is the story going? Maybe add a hint of what he wants. I want to know if he’s really okay with being invisible…eventually that wears on your mind. I want to know what he’s going to do with his power of being invisible.